On the Edge of Always
by Lady Leigh
Summary: Frodo must leave the Shire forever, but not before realizing the cost of silence and the price of procrastination. Slashy. Second chapter is a fitting song for the story from Enya's "Watermark".
1. Default Chapter

There is only one JRR Tolkien, to whom these characters will forever belong. :o)  
  
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"Where are we headin' to, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam slowly as the ponies picked their way through the first fallen leaves of early-autumn.  
  
"Don't you know?" Frodo had been very contemplative since leaving Bag End, and was growing moreso as they rode on. He knew what lay ahead, Sam didn't, not by the sound of it, anyway. And although he shivered in anticipation and relief at laying down his long-held burden at last, his heart also throbbed with a heavy sadness that his one true desire would never materalize. Not any more. Not now.  
  
Sam felt his master's despondent mood and wondered uneasily what on earth could be troubling him now. The deed was done, the Quest completed. Middle- Earth had prevailed. The Shire was cleansed of vermin. Bag End had a rightful Baggins in it once again, as should be. Yet, Frodo remained troubled since his return to The Shire, suffering bouts of illness and depression. He ate little, even in the face of the bountiful harvests Hobbiton had enjoyed since the overthrow of Saruman and his ruffians. Frodo was never corpulent, but he always had enough flesh on his face and body to glow health. The fulfillment of the Quest had left him thin and pale, and while his face still possessed a lovely Elvish luminescence, it appeared that strength was leaving him daily like a river flowing to the sea. His eyes, once reflective of the sky on a perfect summer day, now were clouded over...an endless chasm of unabated grief. Sam thought that their return to The Shire and to Bag End would turn Frodo's condition right around, and he'd revert back to his old self before the terrible weight of the Ring had almost killed him at Mt. Doom, but it was not happening.  
  
Sam offered a response in a lighthearted voice which belied his own mounting alarm, "Rivendell, sir?"  
  
Frodo glanced at his beloved friend, a smile touching his lips, and didn't answer. He wished Rivendell was their destination. He wished he could go backwards in time to that wonderful day when he awoke in Rivendell, healed of his Black Wound, to Sam holding his hand and staring down into his eyes with the happiness of an innocent puppy. To a time before the Quest had begun, when he still felt whole and alive. How nave was he then! He offered to take the Ring to the Fire, not knowing the toll it would take on his soul. O Rivendell! he thought, sadly, O Sam! It is naught that I will ever see either of you again, and if not forever, then at least for a lifetime.  
  
He pulled the pony to a stop and Sam stopped beside him, a puzzling crease crossing his brow. And then Frodo lifted his head and sang in a soft, beautiful voice, a familiar song but with different words. Sam listened, a frightful thought filling his heart at the words. And then, from over the hill, Elvish voices answered him, their voices lovely but cloaked with unmistakable sadness. Sam could hardly believe his eyes as over the hill, on steeds befitting their majestic stature, Elrond rode, with Gandalf at his side. Abreast rode the Lord Celeborn and...the lovely Lady Galadriel herself. With them were a host of the Elvish High Kindred, all hauntingly beautiful with their flowing hair and regal manner, and bringing up the rear...a familiar figure on a small pony. The figure was nodding with sleep, and tears sprang to Sam's eyes.  
  
"Mr. Bilbo, sir!! Is it really you?" he called out, dismounting his pony and running to him. "Mr. Frodo, look!!"  
  
Frodo had dismounted and now approached the now aged Bilbo, reaching up to hug the ancient old hobbit warmly. "Hullo, Bilbo," he said fondly. "I'm ready to go with you now."  
  
Instantly the fright Sam had felt became a dagger of dread. "G-go, sir? But...but...where are you going?"  
  
He turned to Sam, the sorrow full on his face. A tear started in the corner of his eye and traced a trail silently over his cheek. "I'm going with Bilbo, Gandalf, and the Elves, Sam. Where I go you cannot follow, over the sea, to Valinor. Yet..." he paused, reflecting, "yet you may still follow someday, after all. You were, for a short time, a Ring-Bearer, were you not? But for now, I must leave you, much as it's breaking my heart. For it's already wounded, my heart is, and I will find no peace here. I must go."  
  
Sam could not talk, it seemed that his throat had closed. He stood there, gaping at Frodo, tears streaming freely over his plump cheeks. "You're leaving me...and I can't go with you..." he stammered. "Why? Frodo, why are you leaving me?"  
  
"Sam, please don't cry!" Frodo held him tightly, overcome with emotion at the finality of the parting. Sam's arms went about him like a vise, almost crushing his ribs. "You have a fine life here, Sam! You have Rosie and little Elanor, and how many more little lasses and lads will follow her, I wonder! You're needed here, by so many people, Sam. Grow old and comfortable you will in time, and our days together will be dimmer in your mind with each passing year."  
  
"Never!" Sam cried, his face pillowed against Frodo's shoulder. "You'll never be a dim memory, not to me, Frodo, not ever! I can't, I can't let you go..." His body wracked with sobs in Frodo's arms, and Frodo stroked the soft blond curls of his head lovingly. He looked helplessly at the waiting Elves, and they gazed upon him in dignified sympathy. Gandalf turned his glance away, but not quick enough. Frodo caught the glint of a tear in that old, wrinkled eye. "My lord," Frodo said to Elrond, "would it be permissible for me to have a few moments alone with Sam? Would you wait for me?"  
  
Elrond considered the request, but Frodo knew the answer before he spoke. "Go, Frodo, and comfort Master Samwise. I know the pain of your parting, and I grieve for both of you. Go. We will go before you and wait. But do not forget, the ship departs in a quarter-hour. Once sailed, it does not return."  
  
"Thank you, my lord," said Frodo, bowing slightly. The procession filed solemnly past them toward the waiting ship at Grey Havens. As soon as they were out of sight, Sam renewed his grip on Frodo.  
  
"Don't leave me, sir, please! Stay here with me, at Bag End. I am your servant always, remember? You belong with me. Say you'll stay!"  
  
"My sweet Sam, I cannot, you know that. To stay here means death for me. Even for you, my beloved Sam, I cannot stay." Fresh weeping anew greeted Frodo's ears, and his hold on composure rapidly weakened. The two hobbits clung together, sobs of heartache now assailing Frodo as well.  
  
"I love you, Frodo, I always have," Sam said in a choked voice. "I...I love my Rosie-lass and all, and my Elanor, but I confess here and now that had I been able to marry you, I would have. You were my first love, my last, my always. Almost...before I married Rosie...almost I came to you with a notion that we...well...stay together. You know..." he raised his wet face to Frodo's and it was crimson with embarrassment. "You know," he whispered again, "like married people. Forever always." Another furious blush overtook him and he once again cradled his head in Frodo's shoulder. "There wasn't anyone else I wanted. But I knew you didn't feel the same."  
  
"But Sam..." Frodo said, pulling back and clasping Sam's face in each palm. "I did. I did feel the same. I do now, and I always will. Everyone always thought I was the strong-willed one, the Ring-Bearer, who would face Sauron himself to fulfill the Quest. But the only strong thing about me, Sam, was my love for you. How many times while in Lothlorien did I want to lie down in the sweet grass with you in that fair realm! When I woke in Rivendell, how I wanted to pull you into the soft down with me!" Even in his anguish, the slow realization that both of them had desired the other all along and done nothing filled Frodo's heart with an agony beyond anything he had ever known. Years wasted, moments gone. Forever. He clutched Sam even tighter, wishing there was some way the two of them could fuse to become one soul.  
  
Finally, he bent his face to his sleeve and swabbed the tears away, willing himself not to cry over what was past. "But...Sam...it's better we did not speak of it then, and better we do not now. It would've been an uncomfortable life, having everyone in Hobbiton gabbing about us. You know how they talk about such things. Remember what they did to Andelard and Hamson a while back? Nearly drove them right out of Hobbiton they did. I couldn't bear to subject you to that. And now, I am leaving, so the image of us would only be a torment to me."  
  
"How would it be a torment if there is no image to be tormented about, Frodo?" Sam asked wretchedly. "I love you and you love me yet we never showed it."  
  
"But we did, Sam! Every day we did. You were with me every moment. Were it not for you, I would be in Shelob's belly right now. When it looked like I would fail, you hoisted me on your back and carried me. When I was hungry, you gave me food. You even clothed my nakedness when you found me in the Tower, remember?"  
  
Sam smiled shyly. "Yes, sir, I remember. Especially that last one. That I shouldn't have done. Or if I did clothe you, it should've been with my own body, and not clothing."  
  
Frodo laughed through his tears. "You're such a beautiful incorrigible! Oh I'm going to miss you so much, my dearest Samwise. It will be like an inconsolable ache in my heart. And probably in other places, too." Frodo's shy return smile made Sam blush furiously. They both looked up suddenly in the direction of the mournful sound of a gonging bell. "Five minutes," Frodo said, looking at Sam in desperation and heartbreak. "I have to go..." He moved to break the embrace, but Sam would have none of it. "Sam, please, don't do this..." Finally with a great wrenching motion, he broke free of Sam's arms and backed away. "It's too late, Sam. Too late. I love you, I always will. I'll live on that until we might meet again."  
  
In two steps Sam was upon him again, his sturdy arms sliding firmly up Frodo's back and holding him in a vise from which he knew he could not break free. They searched each other's faces looking for comfort that was out of reach for both. Frodo, being the taller of the two...a fact he never let Samwise forget...looked down into the round, attractive face of his friend, the somewhat Entlike greenish-brown eyes that were wet and red- rimmed with misery. His eyes closed and he leaned forward as Sam reached up, and their mouths met in a warm and gentle kiss, tasting each other tentatively, growing more bold and insistent with each passing second till the kiss was a feverish embrace that sent Frodo's mind whirling into a fragrant night sky where he thought that if he stretched just a bit, he might be able to reach up and grab the full, yellow moon that floated overhead. He felt Sam's hands on him, firmly pressing into the small of his back, and then extending down lower over the rise of his round cheeks, gripping them, and he felt the blood pulse almost painfully in his veins at this new and exquisite sensation that was flooding his body.  
  
A shudder went through him and his knees nearly buckled when one of Sam's hands came round his body and tenderly stroked his hardness through his breeches. How he wanted to be free of them! How he wished they could both be free of their bindings and run naked into the cool forest and make love till dawn with the soft grass as their bed and the arms of the trees as their canopy! His primal urge was to lay Sam down right where he stood and take him now, here. The desire was akin to that of the Ring had held over him, and it was driving him to the brink of madness, just as the Ring had done. "Sam..." he moaned, leaving the sweet probing lips, "no, please don't...the memory will just bring me grief because I can have you no more!"  
  
Sam's withdrew his hands to himself, instinctively obeying his master's command, but still he stood against Frodo's body, so close that a leaf could not fit between them. Each felt the other's readiness, and each knew that a minute was all they needed in their intense state of love and desire, no more, and there was still time. But Sam let the decision be Frodo's and Frodo had made it. He lifted Sam's hand to his lips, kissing the fingers that in those few short seconds had been able to give him such pleasure, musing what could've been had they had an hour left to them. "You'll never know another who could love you more than I do," Sam said forlornly and with such heartfelt candor that Frodo knew that he was unquestionably right.  
  
The bell gonged a second time, more insistently. The hobbits looked lovingly at each other. Sam trembled, visible to Frodo even in moonlight, and he heard Sam's tears begin once more. He had to leave him now or he never would be able to. "Goodbye, Sam, please take care of yourself," he said simply, turning and walking on swift foot toward the ship. Inside, his body screamed with pain. I love you, my dearest Samwise, forgive me, forgive me for being so blind!  
  
Further he trod the path down to the ford's edge, where the ship was waiting for him. He heard no footsteps behind him, and his heart eased a little. As he knew the path bended and Sam would be lost from view, he stole a quick glance over his shoulder. Immediately, he regretted it. Sam stood far back, a tiny, forsaken figure with shoulders hunched over. Frodo could tell he was crying, and the sight of him brought a new sob rising to his throat.  
  
He approached the ship. Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn bade him come aboard. As he moved to do so, pounding behind him made his heart gasp with sorrow, for he knew it was hobbit-feet on solid ground making that sound. He turned in time for Sam to fairly leap into his arms, wrapping both legs and arms around him. One last sweet kiss, one more remembrance of Sam's gentle mouth, and Frodo placed him on his feet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said through his sobs, oblivious to even the Lady casting her grieved eyes on him. "I had to hold you one last time."  
  
"You'll always feel my love, Sam. Though I be a world away, you'll always feel it. Goodbye!" With those words, Frodo forced his body up the narrow gangplank and onto the ship. The ship set sail and slowly moved into the current of the ford, heading for open sea. Frodo stood at the stern, his eyes locked like beacons onto his beloved Sam's for as long as he could see him. The mist was closing in.soon there would be nothingness. Before the mist could swallow them up, Frodo raised his hand to Sam in a pledge of love that would transcend time itself. Sam raised his hand in return. Then he was gone.  
  
Frodo felt like his heart had been hollowed out and filled with ground glass. How could he go on without Sam by his side, supporting him, encouraging him...loving him. A shimmer in the corner of his eye caused him to look up. Galadriel placed her slender hand on Frodo's shoulder. "I grieve for you, Master Frodo," she said. "I know your heart is wounded. I know how much you love Samwise. Yet, be comforted! For you will see him again. Yes," she added, smiling at the light that suddenly rose in Frodo's blue eyes. "You will see him, for he too is a Ringbearer. Many years from now, although where we are going, many years is an instant. But see him you shall, and your love will be One Love, forever."  
  
From the shore, Sam watched as the ship grew smaller and dimmer, until finally it was consumed by the mist. The air felt like thick soup as he tried to draw it into his aching lungs. Not knowing what else to do, he returned to where the ponies were tethered, mounted old Bill and headed back to Hobbiton, leading Frodo's pony by the reins. But he left his broken heart at the spot near Grey Havens where he had said farewell to the greatest love he had ever had.  
  
Many years went by, and Sam lived life well in Bag End. He had begotten 13 children with Rosie, all of them fair to look at and all doing a father proud. He was as happy as he could be, but everywhere his soul yearned for Frodo. Removing the burning ache was like asking the sun to dance on the head of a pin. It would not diminish. Finally, as the autumn of his life was in full swing, he lost his dear Rosie. She died quietly in her bed, with Sam at her side, at a fine, ripe age. He laid her to rest, and wandered about Hobbiton, more empty than ever. All his children were grown, Rosie was gone, Frodo had been gone for decades. Bag End was the same, and Sam could feel Frodo's presence in the dwelling. As if he never left. He could near about smell him.a sweet, musky scent with maybe just a hint of fear.  
  
One day as he was walking near Grey Havens, a flashing, bright image appeared before him. "Yes, it's me, Samwise Gamgee," the form said, chuckling at Sam's incredulous look. "Gandalf is here to tell you that your time has come. Frodo is waiting, and the ship is ready to depart. Let us go!"  
  
He eagerly boarded the ship with Gandalf, walking as fast as he could with the age that had stricken his bones and joints. The ship sailed off, and long a journey it was. Several days and nights were they on the waves. Then suddenly Sam, shielding his eyes, made out a piece of glimmering land, growing larger by the minute. Tol Eressea. "That's where he has waited for you for many years, Sam," Gandalf said in his ear. "But it only felt like many years to you. To him, it was yesterday. Time has no place in the Undying Lands."  
  
The ship got closer to land, and Sam strained his eyes. A small figure paced on the shore. Was it...? It was, it was his beloved Frodo, anticipating his arrival. Sam danced with glee, wincing at the pain that lanced his joints. Yet as the ship stopped and the plank lowered, Sam noticed that the closer he got to Frodo, the less his pain was. Soon they were standing eye to eye, and Frodo was smiling at him. How beautiful he was, how porcelain his skin.undefiled by age or infirmity! Youth still danced in his bright blue eyes, and his rosy mouth split into a grin at the sight of him. "Hello, Sam," he said lovingly. "I told you that you'd join me someday."  
  
"Mr. Frodo..." Sam replied, unable to absorb his happiness, and then his eyes glanced down in amazement at his own hands. Flawless they were, the hands of a very young man. "I'm...I'm young again!"  
  
"Yes, Sam, we both are. Here time stands still. You've come back to me, and now we are free to be together until the end of the world. Come, Sam," he said, taking his hand. "We have to make up for many years of denial."  
  
Sam's arm went about his master's waist. Never again would he let go. "Coming, Mr. Frodo, coming," he said.  
  
FIN 


	2. Exile

Cold as the northern winds  
  
in December mornings,  
  
Cold is the cry that rings  
  
from this far distant shore.  
  
Winter has come too late  
  
too close beside me.  
  
How can I chase away  
  
all these fears deep inside?  
  
I'll wait the signs to come.  
  
I'll find a way  
  
I will wait the time to come.  
  
I'll find a way home.  
  
My light shall be the moon  
  
and my path - the ocean.  
  
My guide the morning star  
  
as I sail home to you.  
  
I'll wait the signs to come.  
  
I'll find a way  
  
I will wait the time to come.  
  
I'll find a way home.  
  
My light shall be the moon  
  
and my path - the ocean.  
  
My guide the morning star  
  
as I sail home to you.  
  
Who then can warm my soul?  
  
Who can quell my passion?  
  
Out of these dreams - a boat  
  
I will sail home to you. 


End file.
